


You.

by Ayano_18



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 19,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24769021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayano_18/pseuds/Ayano_18
Summary: This is a modern au based around Francis' life. When his marriage falls apart, he turns to a friend for comfort.
Relationships: Kenna/Sebastian "Bash" de Poitiers, Mary Queen of Scots/Francis de Valois (Reign), Olivia/Francis de Valois (Reign)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 26





	1. Which one of us is the fool?

The front door slammed shut behind him as Francis dropped his keys onto the table in the hallway. He took a deep breath and released it, hoping to release his stress too.  The house was quiet, as it usually is when he returns home from work. Francis walked through the hallway and into the kitchen, taking a look around the room.

Unopened bills lay scattered across the table and empty bottles of wine littered the kitchen surface. Francis sighed, running a hand through his wavy blonde hair, and got to work, cleaning up the mess. Once he’d finished loading bottles into the recycling and washing up the glasses, he pulled out his phone. 

**FRANCIS: where r u?**

Francis waited, leaning against the kitchen table. He rubbed his dark eyes with one hand as he held his phone in the other. When he didn’t receive a response, he dialed quickly, holding his phone to his ear. It rang once. It rang twice. It rang a third time. Just as Francis was about to give up, the line clicked and a voice sounded through the phone.

“Hello?” The voice was slurred and Francis rolled his eyes as he heard loud music in the background.

“Where are you?” Francis asked, his head in his hands. 

“Who is this?” was the voice’s response, and Francis felt himself get more and more irritated. 

“Your  _ husband. _ ” 

“Crap.” 

Francis listened as she cleared her throat, shuffling, before answering.

“Heyyyy, honey. What’s up?” Francis could tell by her voice that she was trying to sober up enough to talk to her husband, but she still sounded drunk.

“This is the third time this week, Olivia.” Francis sighed, pushing himself off the table and walking across the room. “I’m getting really tired of coming home to this mess.”

Olivia’s drunken laughter rang out through the phone and Francis had to hold it away from his ear to keep from going deaf. “Yeah,” she replied, “That hangover’s gonna be a bitch.” 

“Alright,” Francis sighed, knowing there’s no point in arguing over the phone. “I’m picking you up right now, where are you?” 

“Kenna!” Olivia shrieked over the music. “I need a ride home! Francis is maaaaaad.” 

Francis rolled his eyes again. Does she not know he could hear her? He tried to listen to what Kenna said in response, but he couldn’t make it out above the music. 

“Kenna’s gonna drop me home in about an hour when she gets off work, kay?” Olivia shouted down the phone to Francis.

“No. Kenna’s probably just as drunk as you are.” Francis said firmly. “I’m coming to pick you up, now tell me where you are.” 

“The Red Lion…” Olivia mumbled.

“Okay,” Francis started, picking his keys back up from the table in the hall. “I’ll be right there.” 

He hung up the phone before she could respond, letting the front door shut behind him. Once he had locked it, he hurried to his car, slamming the door. As he pulled his seatbelt across his chest, he paused for a moment, allowing himself to breathe.

How did he get himself into this mess in the first place? Francis loved his wife, but her behavior was driving him completely insane. 

Francis took another deep breath before placing his hands on the steering wheel and backing out of the driveway. 

  
  
  



	2. Who are you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part of the story, I hope you enjoy x

As Francis stepped out of his car, he was hit with the unpleasant smell of smoke and alcohol wafting through the air. He almost didn’t go inside, but knew he had to find Olivia himself or he’d be waiting in the cold for hours. His footsteps echoed through the empty street as he approached the entrance of the bar.

Deafening music blast through the speakers and bright disco lights made searching the sea of faces hard to do. As he made his way through the crowd, he was pushed from behind and tumbled forward, colliding with a woman. 

“I’m so sorry!” he apologized loudly over the music. 

“Don’t worry about it.” the woman smiled, her hazel eyes glowing from all the lights. From the apron covering her dress, Francis could tell she worked here, and her dark hair was piled into a bun atop her head. “I don’t recognise you. Are you new here?”

Francis nodded, his head starting to hurt from the noise. 

“Why don’t we…?” the young woman motioned with her hand towards a small door not far from where they stood. Francis nodded again and followed the woman through the crowds towards it. 

Once they were inside, Francis found himself in a small corridor where several other doors led off it, all labelled ‘staff only’. Although this wasn’t an ideal place for their conversation, it sure beat the noisy hall of the bar. 

“So, how can I help you, uh…” the woman trailed off, blushing as she waited for Francis to tell her his name. 

“Francis. Francis Valois.” He held his hand out awkwardly and she shook it, laughing.

“Mary Stua-” she stopped suddenly. “Um, just Mary will do.” 

“Mary Stuart?” Francis’ eyes widened. “As in, the daughter of James Stewart? The  _ millionaire  _ James Stewart?”

Mary shushed him, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “I’m just Mary here.” 

Francis nodded understandingly. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I understand.”

“You do?”

Francis nodded, laughing slightly. “You know that frustrating blonde woman who’s always on the news?” 

Mary frowned, scrunching her nose up in confusion. “You mean the politician?” 

Francis smiled and shrugged. “She’s my mother.” 

“What?!” Mary exclaimed a little too loudly. “Your mother is Catherine de Medici?”

This time, it was Francis’ turn to shush Mary as they both erupted into hushed giggles. Francis watched Mary take out her bun, letting her raven hair fall around her shoulders. 

“Wait a minute,” he said and she looked up at him, expectantly. “If your father is so rich, why are you working here?” 

Mary’s smile dropped from her face as she was hesitant to reply. Francis began to worry he had said something wrong, but she finally replied. “This place...it may be a dump, but I’ve never felt more alive.” she bit her lip, her eyes on the floor. “I guess I just want to live my life while I can. It’s the only one I’m ever gonna get.” 

Francis nodded, but Mary’s eyes were still looking down at the floor.

“You probably think that’s really stupid…” 

“I don’t think that’s stupid at all.” Francis reassured her. “You only get one chance, why waste it?” 

Mary looked up at him, her eyes glistening as she played with the ends of her hair. “What about you? What brings you here?” 

“Well, I came to pick up my wife-” his heart drops to his feet as he remembers why he came. “Oh my God, Olivia!” 

He pushed past Mary, moving towards the door quickly. “I’m so sorry,” he said hurriedly, turning back to Mary briefly. “It was a pleasure to meet you!” 

As he burst out into the hall, the music hit him and all at once he was deafened. His heart began to race as he looked down at his watch for the time. He sighed, frustrated, as the room was too dark for him to see. He scanned the busy room for Olivia’s wavy blonde hair, desperately trying to remember what she had been wearing before he left for work this morning, although a part of him knew she had most likely changed since then.

Finally, Francis caught sight of blonde curls by the bar. He rushed over, noticing Olivia talking to another woman. He kept his eyes on the stranger, trying to figure out if he knew her.

“Francis, there you are!” Olivia said, not even trying to hide her slurred speech this time. “This is Kenna.” 

The brown-haired haired girl smiled and waved, her olive skin stained with the colors of the lights. Francis recognized her name from somewhere, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Hi.” Francis said, politely. He looked down at where Olivia sat on a bar stool, and his mouth dropped open in horror. “Olivia! What on earth are you wearing?” 

Olivia’s satin red dress clung tightly to her form, dropping low at the chest and stopping short just above the knees. 

“People will be looking at you!” Francis continued, his eyes wide, as he ripped off his jacket and draped it over Olivia’s shoulders, trying his best to cover her up.

“Let ‘em look!” Olivia declared loudly to the room, liquid sloshing out of her glass as she raised her drink in the air, “I am a married woman!” she reached up to Francis, pulling him down and kissing him firmly. 

Her breath smelled of beer and her lips tasted like gin and Francis had to hold his breath to keep from gagging as she pulled away.

“Can I get you a drink?” Kenna asked, winking at Francis and he felt very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“No, thanks.” he half smiled across the bar at her before turning back to Olivia. “Time to go.”

“Oh, come on!” Olivia whined, holding her drink between her fingers. “Loosen up a bit! Just have a drink with me.” she pouted at Francis, who rolled his eyes. 

“No, Olivia. We’re going home.” he pulled her up from the bar, gently, and she groaned. 

“See you later, Kenna.” she mumbled, following Francis sheepishly through the crowd of people and out of the door.


	3. Should I stay or should I go?

Francis let out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding as he pulled up in the familiar driveway of his home.

The wrap-around porch framed the front of the house and the grey bricks made the front archway look like a castle.

The fence leading to the back garden could use a lick of paint and Francis made a mental note to get that done when he had the chance.

The inground swimming pool that Olivia and Francis had fought over buying was just visible over the gate. He had told Olivia the pool was an expense they didn’t need, but Olivia had insisted that she’d use it every day. It’s true, she did. For about a week.

Francis looked over to the passenger seat and sighed as he saw that Olivia had passed out.


	4. Who's crying now?

Francis looked up from his book at the familiar sound of Olivia’s footsteps on the wooden stairs. Her hair was tangled and messy and her eyes were tired. 

“I did it again, didn’t I?” 

Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but Francis heard every word. He nodded mutely, holding his arms out to her. She nodded gratefully, sliding down onto the sofa next to Francis. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead sweetly. 

“What do you remember?” 

Olivia thought for a moment before shaking her head. “Nothing.” 

The light from the fireplace danced in her eyes and she nuzzled into Francis’ chest. 

“I never meant for this to happen.” Olivia whispered into his shoulder.

“Olivia?” Francis said after a moment of silence. “I don’t think I can keep doing this.” Olivia bowed her head in shame. “What if you get yourself into trouble and I’m not here to help you?” 

Olivia didn’t answer. Instead, she took Francis’ hand, locking her fingers into his and holding onto him tightly. 

“I feel like I don’t know you anymore.” Francis whispered, watching the fire in front of him, his eyes burning just the same. 

“Please don’t look at me like that.” Olivia sighed, sitting up. 

Francis turned to her, his eyes still wide. “Like what?” 

“Like you hate me!” Olivia cried, standing up quickly.

“I could never hate you.”

Francis returned his gaze to the fire as Olivia stood quietly for a moment, her arms crossed against her chest. She had changed her clothes since Francis drove her home, and had slept in one of Francis’ jumpers instead. She now pulled at the same sleeve, digging her nails into her palms. The silence was awkward, unsettling, as neither really knew what to say. After another long moment, Francis worked up the courage to say what he had been thinking for some time.

“I think you should go.” 

Olivia turned her head to face him, her eyes wide. “You want me to go?” 

“Stay with your parents for a while.”

Olivia just stared at Francis for a moment before turning back to the stairs. She walked quickly, her arms crossed over her chest. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, turning back to face Francis.

“You know, I loved you, Francis. I loved you when you couldn’t even love yourself.” Her eyes filled with tears as Francis refused to look at her. “I still do. I love you Francis.” 

She hesitated, waiting for him to say something, anything. When he didn’t, she felt her stomach tighten and anger claw its way up her throat. 

“Do you really think anyone is ever gonna love you the way I do?” she asks, her voice growing louder with every word. “You really think anyone’s gonna see past the obsessive, uptight man you are? No. Only I could do that. ME! Your wife!”

Olivia broke down, falling to the floor as sobs took over her body. Francis rose to his feet, placing the book he had been reading on the coffee table in front of him. 

“You don’t mean that.” his voice was soft and low. “What do you want me to say?” his voice was loud now, and Olivia looked up at him with wide eyes. “You want me to lie and say I love you?” 

Francis froze as he heard the words leave his mouth. He didn’t mean them, and wished more than anything that he could take them back.

Olivia didn’t answer as she took deep, shaking breaths. Francis looked down at her as she sat, slumped on the bottom step. In his heart, he wanted to hold her, to let her cry and to tell her everything would be okay, but in his head, he knew that everything wasn’t okay. His marriage was falling apart. 

Francis turned on his heels, lifting his jacket from the back of the sofa and swinging it around his shoulders. He felt the pocket of his jeans for his phone and grabbed his keys off the table in the hallway. 

“Where are you going?” Olivia stood up quickly, running after him into the hall.

“I’m leaving.” he said simply as his fingers gripped the handle of the front door. “I want you gone by tomorrow morning.” 

“Francis, no. Please don’t leave!” she called after him, but Francis was already opening his car door and slipping into the driver's seat. As he pulled away from the house, he watched his wife standing in the doorway, her arms clutched around his sweater that she wore. It pained him to leave her like this, but he somehow knew that there was more to life than this. 

_ You only get one chance. Why waste it? _


	5. Finding a Friend

The rain danced across the afternoon sky, leaving droplets in Francis’ hair and falling gracefully into puddles along the pavement.

The sun slipped down the edge of the horizon like a soapy plate from a person's wet hands, ready to wake up the other side of the world.

The main road was a pleasant little ghost town, not a car or other person in sight. The only sound ringing out in the quiet street was the steady tapping of his feet greeting the pavement.

As Francis approached the front door, he knocked loudly. This house was different to his own, smaller but equally beautiful. Red bricked walls complemented the white of the window frames and front door and the fences of this house were painted evenly. 

When the door creaked open, Francis was surprised to see a young lady poke her head out to look at him. She wore a silky nightgown with a cardigan draped over her shoulders.

“Can I help you?” she asked. She wasn’t rude, just unsure. 

Francis recognized her olive skin and flowing light brown hair immediately.

“Kenna?” 

She looked confused for a second, surprised that he knew her name, before her face softened with realization. “From the bar.” she said, aloud. 

Francis nodded as they awkwardly shook hands. “Um...I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but, what are you doing here?” 

Before she could answer, Francis heard a voice call out through the house. 

“Kenna? Who is it?” 

Kenna turned back to Francis, whispering quietly, “What did you say your name was again?”

Francis cracked a smile and told her. 

“Some guy called Francis!” she called back. “I met him at the bar this afternoon. Don’t worry, though!” she giggled, turning back to Francis. “He’s just leaving.” 

Francis looked up at Kenna, his eyes filled with amusement, but also confusion. 

“Sorry, uh-” Francis struggled to make sense of what was happening. “Can I please talk to Bash?” 

Kenna squinted at Francis suspiciously, swinging on the door like a child, as footsteps sounded from behind her.

“How do you know Bash?” 

“He’s my brother.” Francis explained. 

“Half brother, actually.” 

Francis looked up as Sebastian appeared in the doorway, his hands finding their way around Kenna’s waist. He was taller than Francis, with messy brown hair and an unshaved face. Like Francis, he had bright blue eyes and a charming smile, which he showed to Kenna as he leaned over to kiss her.

“I think that’s enough interrogation for one night, don’t you?” He laughed as Kenna pouted. “You are wonderful at it, my dear.” 

That earned him a smile and the couple kissed again. Francis cleared his throat awkwardly, and Bash looked back at him with a smirk. 

“Come in, little brother.”

Bash stepped aside, allowing Francis to enter the house. 

“I’ll make some tea.” Kenna said, reaching up to place a kiss on Sebastian’s cheek before hurrying off towards the kitchen. 

Francis made his way into the living room from memory. He had been to his brother’s house so many times, he was sure he could name every book on the bookshelf without looking. As he collapsed onto the sofa, resting his feet on the coffee table as he always did, he became suddenly aware of Bash’s careful eyes watching him intently. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but isn’t it a little late to be popping in for tea?” Bash asked, sensing all was not well with his brother.

“Is it alright if I sleep over?” Francis asked, before realizing he wasn’t the only guest in Sebastian’s house. “I can stay on the sofa if Kenna is using the guest room.”

Francis looked at Bash questioningly. He did not mean to be rude or presumptuous, but he was unsure of the extent of their relationship.

Bash laughed heartily. “Never fear, brother, the guest room is yours.”

It was unclear to Francis whether that meant Kenna wasn’t staying at all or if she would be sleeping with Bash, but he was hesitant to ask. The nightclothes she wore were answer enough. Instead, he smiled gratefully, aware that Sebastian must be buzzing with questions but was relieved that he didn’t ask.

Bash sat beside Francis on the sofa and reached for the TV remote. As the light from the TV lit up Francis’ face, his mind was not thinking of the local news report; his thoughts were elsewhere. It was only when his mother’s face filled the screen that he began to pay attention. Bash seemed to notice too, and turned up the volume. 

“We urge you all, as our valued public, to vote the Labour party into power. For too long this country has sat and waited for glory to come to its name, and now, we may just have the answer. Polling stations open from the 6th until the 13th in all cities and towns. Vote Labour. Vote freedom.” 

As the news cut to an ad break, Bash turned the volume down again, to an inaudible hum. Although they couldn't hear the words that the fruity salesman spoke, it served for appropriate background noise. 

“My mother, ladies and gentlemen.” Francis said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his mother’s desperate attempt to gain more votes. 

“That’s your mother?” 

Francis looked up to see Kenna standing in the doorway, juggling three mugs in her hands. Bash jumped up from the sofa to help her, taking two of the mugs from her hands. 

“Boy, did I choose the wrong brother!” 

Bash raised his eyebrows at Kenna, handing Francis one of the mugs.

“Kidding!” she giggled, following Bash back to his seat. As he lowered himself back down onto the sofa, she settled on his knee, reaching her arms around his neck. 

“So,” Francis started, eager to learn more about the girl who had won his brother’s heart. “When did you guys meet?” 

Francis noticed Sebastian blush slightly, but he tried to play it off, clearing his throat before answering. 

“A few months ago.”

Francis nodded, silently relieved that Bash hadn’t rushed into anything. 

“We met while I was walking home from work.” Kenna explained. “These two men started following me home. I didn’t see them at first, but I guess Bash did, and he walked me the rest of the way home.” she gushed.

Francis grinned at his brother. “I didn’t peg you as being the knight-in-shining-armor type.” 

Bash rolled his eyes but smiled as Francis let out a small chuckle. They really did seem very happy together. 

The group ended up talking for hours about politics and Bash’s relationship with Kenna, sharing childhood memories and laughing over the past. By the time either brother realized the time, Kenna was already asleep, her head resting against Bash’s shoulder. The tea had long since been drunk and even the TV had nothing better to play than the 24 hour news report. Francis couldn’t help but feel disappointed that their evening was over.

Sebastian lifted Kenna gently, carrying her up the stairs, and Francis followed. As he turned the corner towards the guest bedroom, his brother stopped, turning back to him. 

“Francis,” he whispered, careful not to wake Kenna in his arms. “You never told me why you’re here. Why aren’t you at home with Olivia?” 

Francis hesitated, his hand curled around the door handle. The moon cast an eerie glow across the otherwise dark landing, yet Francis felt perfectly at home here. He hesitated, watching Bash’s face in the darkness. 

“I think I just left my wife.”


	6. Where do I belong?

Francis’ eyes fluttered open to reveal a darkened room, with light seeping in from underneath the door.

He rolled over and reached his arms out in front of him, but they were greeted with an empty space. A small sigh escaped his lips as he remembered where he was, that he was sleeping in his brother’s guest room and not at home with his beautiful wife.

The walls around him were painted a familiar blue, with framed photos lining the far wall. His eyes traced the photos, taking in all the memories Bash had chosen to keep. He rolled over onto his back, rubbing his eyes and stretching out before lifting himself off the bed with a quiet groan. 

Pulling the shirt he wore yesterday over his head, he began to collect his things. He picked his phone up from the bedside table and pushed it into the pocket of his jeans. Next, he tied his watch around his wrist before checking the time. 6:22; Bash was probably still sleeping. 

After grabbing his keys from the table, he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He knocked gently on his brother’s door, and when there was no answer, he gently pushed it open. 

Francis saw that Kenna was asleep when his eyes adjusted to the darkness, her brunette hair spread out across the pillow. She had her arms around Bash’s waist, her head resting against his chest. Bash was asleep too, his arms cased Kenna protectively as his steady breathing caused the blanket sprawled across his stomach to rise and fall in time.

“Goodbye, brother.” Francis whispered before retreating out of the door and making his way down the stairs. 

As he slipped out of the front door into the early morning air, he breathed deeply. 

Something about today felt different, special, like he had been born again into a world where he didn’t have to clean up wine bottles and cover up his wife’s revealing clothes. 

For the first time in his life, he felt free.


	7. Where did I go wrong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakups suck :(
> 
> Sorry for the delay with updating <3

Francis had driven home quickly, his mind disturbed. At first, he had felt relieved to be free of the chaos his life with Olivia had brought him, but now that reality had hit him, he found himself missing her dearly. 

The house was quiet when he arrived home. Too quiet. Had he made a terrible mistake? Even though she was rarely sober when he came home, at least she was still there to greet him. Most of the time. Now he felt rather alone.

Francis picked up the book he had left on the table the night before. He held it in his hands, tracing the letters on the cover gently with his fingers, as though he were afraid of it shattering before his eyes.

“The Life of Mary, Queen of Scots” the title read. Francis was a great fan of history. Olivia, not so much. But of the dozens of historical books that sat upon their shelf, this one was her favorite. Francis sighed sadly, placing the book back onto the shelf with care.

Tidying up seemed to calm him greatly, and he got to work sorting through the pile of unopened mail on the kitchen table. As he threw the last envelope into the trash, there was a knock at the door.

Francis froze. Why had she come back? Did she make it to her parents’ house? 

Cautiously, he edged towards the door, stopping to look through the peephole before opening the door with surprise. 

Two police officers stood on his front step. The woman was holding a clipboard and pen and looked very official. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a cap over her head. The man who stood beside her wore a gloomy expression, the corners of his mouth pointed down into a frown. He was shorter than the woman and had spiky black hair.

“Are you Francis Valois?” the woman asked with a firm tone. 

“Yes.” Francis said, confused. “Can I help you?” 

“Do you have any relation to Olivia Valois?” 

Francis felt his heart drop to his feet, as he gripped the door frame for support. 

“My wife.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the two officers seemed to understand. The woman nodded professionally and the man tried his best to smile.

“I think you should come with us, Mr Valois.” 

Francis stepped out of the house as the policemen turned back to their car. 

“Why, what’s happening?” Francis pulled his door shut behind him and locked it quickly, fumbling with his keys. “How do you know Olivia? Is she okay?”

The police officers didn’t answer any of his questions, they simply returned to their car. The man slipped into the passenger seat and the woman opened the backseat door for Francis. He obliged, hurrying down the steps and ducking into the car. As Francis continued to ask questions, to no avail, the officer shut the door behind him and got in through the driver’s side to sit behind the wheel. 

“Will one of you please tell me what’s going on?” Francis asked, frustration filling his tone. 

The female officer turned back to him, her voice soft and low. 

“Sir, there’s been an accident. We’re going to take you down to the station where they’ll ask you some questions.” 

Francis’ eyes widened as the car pulled away from the curb. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. An accident? Involving Olivia? Was she okay? 

“My wife, where is she?” Francis asked, desperately. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” The policeman said, turning back to face Francis from the passenger seat. “She didn’t make it.”


	8. Let me love you

The next few weeks went by quickly for Francis. 

Olivia’s funeral had been closed-casket, as her body had been burned beyond recognition in the crash. Everyone she had ever come to hold dear was there, her parents and some mutual friends of Olivia and Francis. Bash had stayed with Francis throughout the ceremony to support his grieving brother and Kenna had stayed at home.

The skies themselves had cried that day down on his friends and family, for the weight of Francis’ broken heart was too heavy for him to hold alone. 

Francis had been spending his sleepless nights on the sofa since the day he was taken to the police station. He couldn’t bear to enter the bedroom they had shared and think of all he had lost. He would stay awake, staring out the window or at the fireplace, as if waiting for Olivia to return home. His brother often dropped by to remind him to eat, as Francis would have lost his own mind had it not been for Bash.

Every night, Francis thought of their argument, of the cruel things he had said to her. He wished more than anything to take them back, but it was too late. Nothing could bring Olivia back to him now. He couldn’t help but blame himself for her accident. The burden was a heavy one and his alone to carry. 

Everything Olivia owned, her clothes, her jewels, her books, they all stayed exactly where she had left them the day she left, and Francis dared not move them. The house was still very much theirs, despite her being gone for weeks. 

_ It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my- _

“How are you feeling?” 

Francis looked up. He had been too deep in thought to hear the front door open and shut and Bash walk through the hallway into the living room. Francis stared up at his brother for a moment before turning away again to stare at the cold and empty fireplace.

Bash nodded to no one, understandingly. “Kenna’s going to pop over in a little bit.” Bash said, hoping for a response from Francis. “She’s going to bring soup.”

Still, Francis didn’t say a word, the brightness in his eyes dull. Bash sighed, quietly. He had really been hoping today would be the day. 

_ Please come back, please come back, please come back, please- _

“Come on, little brother.” he continued cheerily, refusing to give up hope. “Let’s get dressed before she gets here, yeah?” 

Without waiting for a response, Bash picked up a sweater from the chair in the corner. He brought it to his face to smell if it was clean before turning back to Francis. Sebastian gently tugged Francis’ shirt over his head, and helped him into the sweater. Francis cooperated with Bash’s plan, but still said nothing, his eyes as empty as his heart. 

“There,” Bash said, tossing the shirt onto the chair. “Doesn’t that feel better?” 

To Sebastian’s joy, Francis offered him a small nod. Despite the progress, Bash still thought it too soon to suggest the idea of taking a shower. 

Bash looked up as the front door opened and footsteps and hushed voices sounded from the hallway. Curious, he followed the sound. 

“Kenna?” 

As he turned the corner, he was surprised to see Kenna stood in the hallway with her arms around another girl. 

“Mary! Kenna didn’t tell me you were coming.” Bash embraced Mary, thankful for the company. “Not that I’m complaining, of course, the more the merrier.” he added with a smile. 

“And are we any merrier?” Kenna asked as she handed a large bowl to Bash. He took it, sighing slightly and the girls followed him into the kitchen. 

“We’ll get there.” was his reply. “Francis!” he called out over the kitchen counter. Francis lifted his head slightly, an indication that he was listening. “This is my friend, Mary. She works at the bar with Kenna.” 

Francis felt something change within him at the familiarity of ‘Mary from the bar’. He stood up, slowly and turned to face the kitchen. Both Bash and Kenna were wide eyed with shock, and Mary looked at them, confused. 

“Does he not do that often?” 

Kenna let out a breath of air, which was sort of like a laugh, only she was too surprised to laugh properly. Bash watched in amazement as Francis took wobbly, unsure steps towards them, his eyes staring intently at Mary. 

“Mary Stuart.” Francis whispered, under his breath.

When he was close enough, he reached out a hand and brushed the hair away from Mary’s face. She stood, frozen like a deer in headlights, afraid not to make any sudden movements. As Francis’ hand brushed against her cheek, his eyes stared intensely into Mary’s.

After a long moment of shocked silence, Francis seemed to catch himself. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” 

He pulled his hand away from Mary’s face, running it through his own hair instead as his eyes drifted to the floor. 

“I don’t know why I did that.” 

Mary smiled shyly, unsure of how to react. “It’s alright. Really.”

Bash left his position behind the counter and walked around it to stand beside Francis. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, talking to him softly. 

“How do you feel, little brother?” 

Francis looked up at Mary once again. Her hazel eyes seemed to glitter and she played with the ends of her raven hair. Her fingernails were painted purple to match the purple top she wore and her jeans were exactly the same shade of blue as Francis’. He noticed everything about her, the way she bit her bottom lip while Bash was talking to him and how she twirled a silver band around her finger while they waited for Francis to reply. 

“I feel…” Francis hesitated, “like I’m gonna throw up.” 

Bash frowned in confusion before Francis held a hand up to his mouth.

“Seriously, I feel sick.” Francis hurried out of the room, skidding around the corner to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back!” he called out as he ran. 

Kenna waited until Francis had shut the bathroom door behind him before turning back to the group. “What on earth was that?” 

Mary’s cheeks flushed pink as she held her hand up to touch where Francis’ hand had been. 

“I’m sorry, but he doesn’t say a word for almost a month and then you show up and he’s chattering like a monkey! What’s up with that?”

Bash’s mouth still hung open, unable to process what just happened. “Well, Mary. I think you're going to be spending a lot of your free time over here.”

Mary knew in her heart that she didn’t mind one bit.


	9. Stars

“Time to go, brother!”

Francis hurriedly pulled his jumper over his head, touching the pocket of his jeans to make sure he had remembered his phone.

Over the last week, his health had significantly increased. Although he still didn’t talk much, he remembered to eat on his own and he even took a shower the day before. He still hadn’t gone into their bedroom, but he had started sleeping in the guest room. Mary had started visiting as often as she could, sometimes more than Bash, and Francis’ job allowed him to work from home for a short time, while he recovered. He hadn’t left the house in over a month, and today he would venture outside for the first time. 

“Will Mary be there?” Francis asked as he hurried down the stairs. 

Bash smiled and nodded. “Yes, I think she met Greer from high school.” he watched as Francis tugged on his trainers with more enthusiasm than he had seen from his brother since the accident. “We’ll just say a quick happy birthday and leave, okay? We don’t have to stay long.” 

Francis nodded in understanding as he beat his brother to the front door. As he flung it open, he took a deep breath, watching the world pass by before him. Birds sang merrily to each other and a dog barked in response from a garden nearby. A few cars drove by on the fairly quiet street, a noise Francis had come to hate, since it was a car that had killed his wife. As he watched the people walk by, he wondered if they had ever felt the burden of a loss like he had.

His thoughts were interrupted by Bash’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him gently towards his car. Sebastian knew Francis needed time to process, but what sort of a surprise birthday party would it be if the guests arrived after the birthday girl?

By the time they arrived at the house, they were only a little late, and they hoped Greer wouldn’t be there yet. 

“Hi!” a voice called out across the driveway as Francis stepped out of the car. A young girl, about Kenna’s age, rushed over to Bash, holding her hand out to him. Bash shook it politely. “I don’t believe we’ve met? I’m Lola.”

“Sebastian.” Bash smiled. 

The smile dropped from Lola’s face, as did her jaw as she stared at Bash, taking him in. 

“Sebastian? As in, Kenna’s hot new boyfriend Sebastian?” she gawked.

Bash let out a small chuckle. “That’d be the one. Let me introduce you to my half-brother, Francis.” Bash held out his arm motioning towards Francis who stood beside the car. He smiled at her politely before returning his eyes to the floor. 

“Wow…” Lola breathed, under her breath. “I mean, come in! Please, make yourself at home.”

Lola’s house was bigger than the brothers’ combined. Great stone pillars stood outside the front door and the small towers at the front made it look like a castle. There was a beautiful balcony overlooking the back garden, where a hot tub and swimming pool lay. 

Francis and Bash followed Lola through the house and out the back door, greeting the other guests politely. Francis caught sight of Mary’s raven hair across the grass and went to her immediately. Bash didn’t mind though, as he had spotted Kenna talking to a handsome young man over by the hot tub and hurried over to investigate. 

The party was lovely, and Greer was pleased by the number of guests. Although the lavish scene was not particularly Bash’s style, he enjoyed sitting with Kenna and talking, letting their feet dangle into the water of the swimming pool. As the afternoon bled into the evening and the outside lights lit up the garden pleasantly, Bash began to search for Francis to take him home, but he was nowhere to be found. 

In reality, Francis had wandered off away from the party. He had gone into the house in search of a glass of water, but ended up exploring Lola's home a little. He had found himself on the balcony overlooking the garden, enjoying the peaceful view of the party without having to be a part of it. 

He didn’t look up as Mary slipped onto the balcony beside him, holding two glasses of wine. She offered one to him, but Francis shook his head mutely. 

“You don’t drink?” Mary asked, and Francis shook his head again. 

Francis lifted his eyeline up to look at the stars, his hands resting on the stone railing. He tried to count them, but got lost and had to start again. He remembered how he used to sit on the porch with Olivia, watching the stars in the sky. She used to tell him that, when you die, your soul becomes a star in the night sky, and you spend the rest of forever looking down on those you love. He wondered if Olivia was watching him right now. 

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Mary asked, and Francis hesitated for a moment. 

“She used to look up at the moon and couldn’t help but wish she was up there, among the stars.” Francis said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think she was afraid of being forgotten.”

Mary placed her hand on his, and he looked down at it as their fingers entwined on the cold stone surface. 

“We won’t forget her.” Mary whispered back as Francis nodded, swallowing back the tears that threatened to cascade down his cheeks. 

Mary leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and they stayed like that for a while, just the two of them under the stars.


	10. When Time Stops

**Francis: are u awake?**

**Mary: It’s 3am**

**Francis: but you're awake.**

**Mary: oops, caught red handed.**

Francis let out a small laugh as he rolled over in the guest room’s bed. Although he had been sleeping better recently, he just couldn’t seem to fall asleep tonight.

It started with the little questions. 

_ Was it my fault? Was I the one who put her in the car that night? If it weren’t for me, would she still be alive now?  _

Then the questions got bigger, polluting his mind like a cloud of uncertainty.

_ Did she die thinking I don’t love her? If she were still here, would anything be different? Would we still be living the way we were before? Do I love her? Did I ever? _

Eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore and decided to text Mary, for company at the least. Somehow, he just knew she’d be awake. 

**Francis: can’t sleep?**

**Mary: I have a lot on my mind. You?**

**Francis: me too.**

That was an understatement. Francis’ thoughts danced about his mind, leaving him little peace.

**Mary: You wanna talk about it?**

Francis hesitated, his thumbs hovering over his keyboard. He rolled back over onto his back as he thought of a response. 

**Mary: I can come over if u want.**

Francis felt his heart flutter as he read the words on his screen. He ran a hand through his blonde curls, collecting his thoughts before replying. 

**Francis: you don’t have to**

**Mary: I want to.**

**Mary: Be there in 10 xx**

/-/

Francis looked up from his phone at the sound of knocking at the door. She was here.

Quickly, he leapt of the bed, rushing around the corner, his feet pounding on the stairs. As he reached the front door, he took a moment to compose himself.

The house was in complete darkness aside from the glow of the streetlights through the front window. Although his home was relatively tidy, he couldn’t help but wish he had cleaned up a bit before she arrived.

His hair was a mess of blonde curls, his eyes duller than usual and he wore a shirt and pair of shorts.

His hand clutched around the door handle as he pulled it open. Standing on the doorstep was Mary, her eyes bright and glimmering. Her dark hair fell gracefully around her shoulders as she smiled up at Francis. Mary looked beautiful today, the way she always did. She wore a red dress and sandals, despite the cold night air, and she shivered slightly as she stood on the doorstep. Francis couldn’t help but feel self conscious about the casual clothes he wore and wished he had tried to fix his hair a bit before he answered the door. 

It wasn’t just Mary’s beauty that mesmerized Francis. Her soft voice and calming words touched him in a way he had never felt before and there was a certain wildness about her that Francis admired. She seemed to understand him like no one else ever could and he wondered how that was. Somehow, she always knew the right thing to say. She was so sure of herself, dedicated and serious, yet she was able to relax so easily and just enjoy the moment. 

“Hey,” her voice was soft and Francis was soothed by her tone. He stepped aside, allowing Mary to enter the house. 

She stepped forwards, walking through the hallway into the kitchen, and Francis followed after shutting the door. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Francis nodded slowly as he began to busy himself making tea, his tired eyes contradicting his response. He held out the mug to Mary, who took it with a smile. She held it in her hands to warm herself as it brewed. She didn’t sit down, and Francis thought it strange at first, but as she pulled a bin bag from the purse hanging around her neck, he quickly understood. 

“I thought we could sort through your bedroom.” Mary said hesitantly, aware that she was pushing Francis further than he’d been pushed since Olivia’s death. She couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his eye, and fumbled with the bag in her hands for something else to look at. “I know you’ve been putting it off,” Mary continued, carefully, “but I thought, maybe you’d want to do it together?” 

Francis said nothing. His mind whirred and his heart raced. Not only was he afraid of entering the room he used to share with his wife, he was also afraid to move her stuff around. He knew she wouldn’t like it. But she wasn’t here anymore. There was nothing she could do about it. 

“Okay.” Francis replied, simply. 

“Okay?” 

“Okay.” Francis placed his own mug back down on the counter, walking slowly towards the stairs. “I don’t want to do it.”  He paused, reaching the bottom step, his hands clutched around the railing. After a moment of hesitation, he shook his head quickly, shaking the thoughts out of his head. “Let’s do it.” he whispered. 

With one foot in front of the other, he walked quickly up the stairs, stopping at the top to make sure Mary was behind him. He didn’t want to do this at all, but he’d rather do it with Mary at his side. 

“It’s going to be okay, I promise.” Mary placed her hand comfortingly on his shoulder as they walked together into the bedroom. 

As Francis flicked the switch on the wall, the light flickered on, and Francis took a long look around the room he hadn’t been in for months. 

Everything was more or less how he remembered it, The bed sat against the back wall with two bedside tables on either side. A couple of books piled atop Francis’ table, as well as a reading lamp, and Olivia’s side housed only an empty phone charger and a single glass of water, the rim smudged with her lipstick. A long dresser sat opposite the bed and in the corner by the window was a small vanity table. Olivia’s makeup lay scattered across it messily and a few of her dresses draped over the chair. 

“Is there anything of hers you want to keep?” Mary asked, quietly, careful not to touch anything without invitation. 

Francis thought for a moment before shaking his head. This surprised Mary, but she said nothing, allowing Francis to take his time. He sat on the edge of the bed, stroking the sheets with his hand. Everything still smelled like her. 

“Just get rid of it all.” Francis said, quietly. “If you see anything you like, you’re welcome to it.” 

Mary stood in the doorway, her eyes wide; this was not the reaction she had been expecting from Francis. 

He stood up quickly, walking over to the dresser. “Can I please have a bag?” he asked, pulling out one of the drawers.

Mary stepped into the room, handing one to him in silence. She watched as, to her surprise, Francis lifted all the clothes from the drawer and dumped them into the bag. He did the same with all of the clothes from all of the drawers. Mary watched, her mouth hanging open, as Francis put every single item of clothing from the dresser, including ones that belonged to him, into the bag. 

“Are you sure you want to throw all of these away?” Mary asked, quietly. 

Francis stopped what he was doing and looked up at Mary.

“I’m not throwing them away.” he said, standing up slowly. “I’ll donate them to goodwill. It’s what Olivia would have wanted.” he smiled slightly, allowing himself a moment to breathe before returning to the dresser. 

“What about your clothes? What will you wear?” 

Francis shrugged. “Bash is always telling me I need new clothes. It might be fun to go out shopping.” he laughed quietly, as he and Mary both knew that clothes shopping was practically torture to Francis. 

Despite the dire situation, Mary enjoyed the laughter they shared, glad to feel close to Francis in this moment. 

Mary helped Francis sort through his clothes, picking out a few outfits to keep until they had a chance to buy new ones. Once they had finished, they moved on to the vanity table, collecting all of Olivia’s makeup and placing it into the wooden box where it was supposed to go. Since it was all used, it couldn’t be donated, and Francis offered it to Mary. She initially refused, as it felt wrong to use someone else’s makeup, but eventually accepted, thinking that either Lola or Greer might appreciate it. 

The pair were making fast progress, and by the time the sun came up, the room was looking a lot emptier than it did before. 

Mary had left to make some tea, and when she had returned, she found Francis sat on the bed facing away from her. His shoulders were shaking slightly and Mary knew that he was crying. Quietly, she placed the mugs atop the dresser and moved to sit beside Francis, rubbing gentle circles across his back as he tried his best to breathe. 

In his hand, he held a small wooden box, and Mary was confused for a long moment. 

Once he had composed himself enough to talk, Francis handed the box to Mary, who turned it over in her hands. She opened the box carefully with her fingers, and a glimmering diamond shone back at her. She gasped slightly as she took it out of the box, admiring the ring. She wanted more than anything to slip it onto her own finger, but knew that she had no right to do that. 

“This is…” Mary didn’t need to finish her sentence. Francis knew it was Olivia’s engagement ring just as well as Mary did. 

Francis turned to Mary, his tired eyes now dry. He took the ring from her hand and held it in his palm, watching the light from the window shine on the diamond. After a moment, he took Mary’s hand, gently slipping the ring onto her finger.

“Keep it.” he whispered, looking up into her eyes.

She looked back at him, her hazel eyes wider than they had ever been. “Francis, I-”

“I want you to have it.” 

Mary felt herself blush slightly, and decided this was the perfect time to lighten the mood a little. 

“I thought we were just friends.” she joked, and to her relief, Francis let out a soft chuckle. 

“Are we ‘just friends’, Mary?” Francis asked, his eyes twinkling, but his tone sincere. 

Mary hesitated, gazing up at Francis. He noticed something change in her facial expression as an awkward silence passed between them. Francis suddenly felt guilty that Mary was here, with him, in his bedroom. He couldn’t help but think that Olivia would be disappointed in him. She had been gone for a couple of months now, but Francis still felt as though he was moving on too quickly. Since he blamed himself for her death, didn’t he at least owe it to her to be her husband for a little while longer? 

Francis stood up quickly, lifting his gaze to look out of the window. The sun was up now, casting a yellow glow over the garden, the light dancing on the surface of the swimming pool. 

“Bash will be here soon.” Francis said quietly, his back to Mary. We should make a start on breakfast. Mary nodded as she stood up too, walking behind Francis and out of the room.

As soon as she had left, Francis let out a deep breath, one he didn’t know he had been holding, and fell backwards onto the bed, running his hands through his blond curls. He didn’t mean to but, before he could help it, sleep took over him and he found himself closing his eyes.


	11. What you mean to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this! I love talking to all of you in the comments <3

When he opened them again, the room was darker than it had been before. The curtains had been pulled closed and the door was shut. As Francis tried to sit up, he found himself tangled in the blanket that was usually draped across the back of the sofa downstairs. He rubbed his eyes, slightly confused and tried to make sense of what was happening. Soft chatter could be heard from downstairs and the plastic bags full of clothes were no longer sat beside the dresser. 

As he lifted himself off the bed, his feet carried him through the door and into the hallway. He waited at the top of the stairs, listening to the hushed voices in the kitchen.

“I still don’t understand how you managed to do it.” Francis recognized Bash’s voice immediately.

As he walked down a few more steps, Francis could now see through the banister into the kitchen. Bash scratched his head, his eyes filled with confused amusement. 

“I mean, he hasn’t even gone in that room since Olivia died.”

“Me neither, to be honest.” Mary’s voice rang out, followed by sweet laughter that greeted Francis’ ears like music. She wore the same clothes she had been wearing this morning, but looked just as beautiful. 

“Oh please,” Kenna moved to stand beside Mary, her long hair piled on top of her head in a bun. “He would never say no to his fiancée.” 

Bash’s face clouded over and he gripped the kitchen counter to balance himself. “What? He proposed?” 

“No!” Mary protested, taking a step away from Kenna’s watchful eyes. 

“But you  _ are  _ wearing his dead wife’s engagement ring.”

Bash lunged forward, reaching out to take Mary’s hand. To his dismay, Kenna was right, and the diamond shone clearly for all to see. “You said yes? Are you mad!” 

Mary tried to laugh, but in truth, she was a little overwhelmed. “No, guys. Be quiet, or you’ll wake him up.”

“Good!” Kenna said, even louder. “Maybe he can explain why you’re wearing Olivia’s ring.” 

“Look, calm down.” Mary said, clearly exasperated. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Well?” Kenna asked, reaching out to touch Mary’s arm. “Do you want to marry him?”

Francis watched with a smile as Mary sputtered and blushed. Nothing could have prepared her for that question. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as Bash turned pale, muttering under his breath.

“This is insane. No one is marrying my little brother, alright?” He lowered himself down onto the nearest kitchen chair. “Women…” he mumbled, shaking his head. 

Francis knew this wasn’t funny, but seeing Bash so worked up over something that wasn’t a big deal stirred something up inside of him and he couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle. 

Bash looked up quickly, hearing the noise. “There you are, Francis!” he called out as Francis emerged from the shadows of the stairs. “Are you alright?” 

Francis nodded to Bash as he walked past the girls to retrieve a glass from the cupboard. 

“Francis?” Kenna asked as he began to fill his glass with water. “I have a question.” 

Francis grinned as he heard Mary hiss at her not to ask the question. Kenna huffed quietly, but kept her mouth shut. 

“So,” Bash started, trying to change the subject. “What are we doing today, team?” 

Kenna crossed her arms across her chest, squinting at Bash suspiciously. “You told me you were working at the garage today.” 

Bash chuckled softly, standing up to walk to her side. He patted her head before answering. “I am. But I’m free this evening.” He looked up to address the rest of the group. “Pizza and a movie?” 

Kenna smiled up at Bash, nodding. “Sounds great! Count me in. I get off work at 5 today.” 

Francis nodded, smiling slightly. 

“Great, so I’ll pick you up around 6, Mary.” Bash said, reaching towards the bowl in the center of the table to grab some chips.

“Sorry guys, I can’t make it tonight.” Mary said, looking down at the floor. “I have a date…” 

All eyes turned to Mary. Wide eyes. Questioning eyes. 

“A date?” Francis asked quietly, and Mary nodded in response. “With who?” 

“Someone my mother found.” Mary sighed and began collecting her things. “She’s always setting me up with people from rich families.” She grabbed her phone off the table and slid it into her purse. “I guess being the only daughter in a rich family means I’m nothing more than a chess piece.” 

She stopped for a moment, looking up at Francis. “I’m sorry.” 

The apology was meant for him and only him. 

Mary turned back to the rest of the group. “I’m sorry guys. I should go.” 

She turned on her heels and headed for the front door, stopping only to retrieve her coat from the back of the chair. Francis watched the front door shut behind her, a thousand questions ringing through his head. A date? How could she have a date? 

“I’m sorry, Francis.” he looked up to see Bash’s sympathetic expression aimed at him. “I know how much you like her.” 

Francis thought about denying it, but knew there was no point. He simply shrugged and tried to smile. “As long as she’s happy.” She hadn’t sounded very happy. 

“So, Francis?” Kenna asked, sitting up eagerly now that Mary was gone. “Why did you give Mary an engagement ring?”

Francis thought about it for a moment. Why  _ had  _ he given her the ring? Maybe because he wanted to give her a piece of himself. A memory he couldn’t bear to hold on to any longer. Perhaps he saw the way she admired it and wanted to make her smile. 

Francis just shrugged, looking up to meet Kenna’s eye. “What good is an engagement ring to me now that my wife is dead.” 

It wasn’t a question, more like an unanswered truth, and Kenna nodded slowly. 


	12. Waiting out the Storm

The light from the fire cast an eerie glow across Francis’ face as he flicked through the pages of his book. The house was quiet, aside from the rain throwing itself against the window. Francis had opted to sit out of the movie night Bash had tried to arrange, telling his brother that he wanted to be alone for a while.

Try as he might to read his book, Francis just couldn’t focus. He kept thinking of Mary and the date she was on. Were they stuck out in the rain? Was she having fun? Did she like the guy?

Francis shook his head firmly, trying his best to concentrate on the words he was reading. 

_ Nine months after the death of King Henry viii, Scottish troops suffered a heavy defeat at the Battle of Pinkie on 10 September 1547. Afraid for her safety, Mary’s guardians turned to the French for help. King Henry ii of France proposed a marriage alliance between his 3-year-old son, the Dauphin, Francis and Queen Mary. This alliance would unite France and Scotland. _

Francis couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of the names in his book. He had read ‘The Life of Mary, Queen of Scots’ several times over the past few months. When Bash had asked why, Francis had told him that the book was Olivia’s favorite and it made him feel close to her, but it wasn’t just that. He felt some kind of connection to it that he couldn’t explain.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing from the kitchen table. Setting his book down, he hurried over to answer it. 

“Hello?”

“Francis!” Catherine de Medici’s voice rang out through the phone. She sounded excited about something, and already Francis was intrigued. 

“Mother, hello.” Francis smiled a strained smile as he tried to sound as happy as his mother did. 

“I have some wonderful news!” Francis took a deep breath, walking over to the window and watching the droplets slide down the glass. “Leeza is coming down to stay! And since Charles is off school for a few weeks and Claude-” Catherine stopped talking, and Francis could practically hear the frown on her face. “Well, Claude is around…”

Francis had to hold back his laughter as he thought of his sister and his mother reuniting again. To Catherine’s dismay, Claude had flunked out of college in favor of moving in with her boyfriend, Leith. In his mother’s eyes, Leith wasn’t rich or famous enough to be seeing her daughter, and when the pair broke up, she practically rejoiced. They didn’t speak much after that. 

“Anyway,” Catherine continued, after a short pause. “I don’t have to work until Monday so we’re all going down to stay at the Beach House for a few days!” The excitement returned to Catherine’s voice just as quickly as it had disappeared. “Invite whoever you like- but, God forbid, don’t bring Sebastian.” Catherine whined. “It’s bad enough Henry invites him and Diane to Thanksgiving every year.”

Francis chuckled softly, knowing that Bash would rather die than visit the Beach House with a family he felt he wasn’t a part of. Francis looked up as he heard a knock at the front door. 

“That sounds wonderful, mother.” Francis told Catherine as he made his way towards the door. 

As he pulled open the door, he froze. Catherine continued to talk through the phone, but Francis was no longer listening. On his doorstep stood Mary, dressed up for her date. Her hair was dripping and her clothes were soaked too as rain fell around the porch. 

“I have to go.” Francis said into the phone, cutting his mother off. “I’ll call you back.” he hung up the phone, his eyes never looking away from Mary. “What are you doing here?” Francis asked. He cringed inwardly, realizing he sounded as though he wasn’t happy to see her. Mary’s smile faltered in response, but she ultimately looked unphased. “What happened to your date?”

“I left.”

Francis felt his world slow down and his heartbeat speed up as he watched Mary amongst the falling rain. “You did? Why?”

“I was tired of being a chess piece.” she said simply, but her eyes glowed with something more. 

Still, Francis nodded, holding his arm up and stepping backwards as an invitation for her to enter the house. She did, peeling the soaked scarf from around her neck and hanging it up on the hook. She slipped out of her heeled shoes and lined them up neatly, dropping her bag down beside them. Francis couldn’t help but feel like she was at home here.

/-/

Once Mary was settled, drying off by the fire with a mug of hot chocolate warming her numb fingers, Francis decided to try and ask her more about her date. 

“So, didn’t you like him?”

Mary looked up at Francis, confusion written across her face, before she realized Francis was talking about her date. 

“I don’t know, I never met him.” she shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. 

Now it was Francis’ turn to wear confusion on his otherwise happy expression. “You didn’t go?” 

Mary sighed quietly, but Francis heard her nonetheless. “I went. But I didn’t stick around long enough to actually talk to the guy.”

Mary raised her spare hand to her head and rubbed her temples. 

“Do you think I made a terrible mistake? My mother will be furious with me!” 

Her eyes were wide now as she turned to look back at Francis, who sat behind her on the sofa. 

“You deserve to be with someone you truly love.” Francis said simply, and Mary tried to smile. 

It was getting dark outside, and the streetlights caused eerie shadows to form from the swaying branches of the trees. It was silent- too silent. Where were the barking dogs? The cars? The passerbys? It was as though time had stopped just for them. 

The light from the dancing flames lit up Mary’s face as she dried herself off, and even in her soaking wet state, she still looked as beautiful as ever. 

“You’re really beautiful, Mary.”

Francis cringed. He wasn’t sure why he had said it, he just knew that if he didn’t say it now, perhaps he never would. 

_ Way to go, Francis. Now she’s looking at you like you’re totally insane. _

Except...she wasn’t.

She was just smiling her lovely smile, her cheeks turning pink. 

She was just watching him with a questioning look on her face.

She was just staring, her eyes soft and shimmering in the firelight. 

Mary dropped her gaze for a moment as she rose to her feet and plopped down on the sofa next to Francis. His heart was beating uncontrollably as he sat still, unsure of what to do next. 

“Do you wanna watch some TV?” Mary asked, tucking her legs underneath her, and Francis sighed with relief. He smiled at her before lifting the remote. Light poured from the screen as the weather report started playing. 

Francis handed the remote to Mary. “You can pick something to watch.” he said, before standing up and carrying his empty mug towards the kitchen. He dumped it in the sink, reaching into one of the cupboards for the cookies Bash had brought him a couple of days ago. 

“Francis?” Mary called out from the sofa. “You might wanna check this out.”

Francis grabbed the bag of cookies and hurried back over to where Mary sat. That’s when he noticed the voiceover on the TV. The weather reporter sounded worried, a look of concern crossing his face as he alerted viewers to flash flood warnings. Francis glanced outside the window to see rain, heavier than before, throwing itself at the window as thunder rumbled. 

He looked back at Mary, who had fished her phone from her pocket, dialing quickly with a look of urgency. Francis placed the bag of cookies on the coffee table and turned back to the kitchen, deciding to give Mary some privacy as she made her call. He busied himself with making tea, and caught pieces of Mary’s conversation over the noise from the kettle. 

“Yes, I’m alright...no...no, I didn’t stay very- what?...Yes, thank you James, but I already know she’s going to kill me...I’m at a friend’s house...I know...I’ll just have to find a way home. I’m sure it will lighten up soon...Okay...Yes, call her. Tell her I’m okay...love you too.”

Francis smiled as Mary sighed dramatically after hanging up the phone. He walked back towards her with two mugs of tea. Mary took one, gratefully. 

“That was my half-brother, James.” Mary explained, taking a sip from her mug. “Aren’t you going to call anyone?”

Francis nodded, unsure why he hadn’t thought to do that right away. He was usually very level headed. First, he called his mother back, explaining why he had hung up on her and confirming that he would join them at the beach house on Friday, in four days. While Mary drank her tea and watched the weather report for any signs of dryer weather, Francis got in touch with a few of his siblings to make sure they were alright.

He noticed that Mary looked nervous, her hands fidgeting in her lap, but assumed she was just worried about the storm and getting home. 

“You haven’t called your mother.” Francis stated, once he’d hung up after his final call. 

Mary just shrugged, taking another sip of her tea. “She’s got my number. She can call me if she wants me.”

Mary flicked through the channels, clearly frustrated with the bad weather, and settled on an old movie. As Francis sat down on the other side of the sofa, Mary looked disappointed for a moment. 

“I don’t bite.” she laughed, a hint of hopefulness in her voice. 

Francis smiled, moving closer to her before settling at her side.

“Are you warm enough?” Francis asked, noticing Mary shiver. Mary smiled up at him and nodded, but Francis found himself wrapping his arms around her anyway. “You can stay, you know.” Francis said, before he could stop himself. “I mean, if you want.” 

“I don’t want to intrude.” Mary said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’d rather you stayed here, safe. Then I can help you get home tomorrow.” 

Mary thought about it for a moment, clasping and unclasping her hands. 

“Well, if you’re sure it’s okay?” she looked up at Francis, who nodded. “Thank you.” 

The two shared a smile before looking back towards the TV to watch the movie, although Francis was watching Mary more than the screen. 


	13. Don't you want me?

When the film drew to a close, Mary went upstairs to change out of her wet clothes. Francis had a bunch of his sisters’ clothes in the spare room for when they came to stay over, and he told Mary she was welcome to borrow anything she liked. 

Francis looked up as Mary walked down the stairs, her raven hair falling around her shoulders. She wore a jumper and jogging trousers, both belonging to Claude, and although she had taken off her fancy clothes and makeup, Francis still thought she looked beautiful. 

The rain still poured outside the window, getting heavier by the minute, and served for pleasant background noise as the otherwise silent room was filled with Mary’s voice. 

“Francis? Are you alright?” 

Francis blinked quickly, realizing he had been staring at Mary. He nodded with a smile. 

“Would you like some tea or…?” Francis offered, already walking towards the kitchen. 

“No, that’s okay.” Mary replied, stopping Francis in his tracks. “It’s getting late, so.” 

Francis nodded, walking back towards where she stood at the bottom of the stairs.  _ She probably just wants to get to bed. She’s had a rough night. _

“Thank you for cheering me up tonight.” Mary  said, as if reading his mind. 

Francis smiled, before looking towards the ground. 

“Well, goodnight.” Mary leaned in, planting a kiss on Francis’ cheek before turning and walking up the stairs to bed. Francis watched her leave, bringing a hand up to touch his face where she had kissed him. What a wonderful feeling he felt. 

/-/

The rain is what woke him, the wind howling and thunder rumbling. From the lack of light, Francis could tell it was still nighttime. He lay on his back, rubbing his eyes and groaning quietly. That’s when he felt it, movement next to him as someone shifted in their sleep. 

He felt soft hair ticking his neck and an arm draped across his stomach, rising and falling with every breath he took.

“Mary?” 

Francis opened his eyes wider and looked down, noticing the blonde curls that covered the pillow. 

“Olivia.” 

This wasn’t a question, nor a statement, but rather an observation as Francis realized he was holding his wife in his arms. Tears filled his eyes as he listened to her steady breathing. He felt so light suddenly, like he was afraid of breaking this moment, as he held onto her tighter. 

Closing his eyes, he let the tears fall freely down his cheeks, and when he opened them once more, she was gone. No blonde curls, no steady breathing, no wife. Francis sat up quickly, feeling the sheets for Olivia, as though she was hiding somewhere, but, to his dismay, she had vanished. 

Francis lifted himself from the bed- he couldn’t stay in this room any longer. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the door and hurried out into the hallway, past the guest room where Mary slept, and down the stairs. 

/-/

Francis looked up from his book at the familiar sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs. Only, this time, they were from someone unfamiliar. Francis still couldn’t quite believe Mary Stuart was staying the night in his house. In his bed. Her hair was tangled and messy and her eyes were tired. She gasped lightly as she saw Francis staring at her- or rather, through her. His eyes didn’t seem to be looking at anything at all.

“Francis! I thought you were asleep upstairs?” 

“I was.” he said simply, offering no explanation to Mary. 

Mary nodded, uncertainly as she motioned her arm towards the kitchen. “I just came down to get a glass of water.” She hesitated, as though waiting for permission from Francis before doing so. 

Something seemed to snap inside of Francis and he shook his head, blinking quickly. “Of course!” Standing up, Francis offered his assistance by retrieving a glass for Mary and holding it under the running tap. He handed it to Mary, who smiled thankfully. 

“Did the storm keep you up?” Mary asked, and Francis nodded. The storm seemed much easier to blame than his dead wife. “Me, too.” 

Francis smiled in response, lost in his own thoughts. His eyes unfocused as he leaned against the kitchen counter. 

He was only broken from his trance when Mary touched his arm, gently. 

“Francis, are you alright?” 

He looked up at Mary, nodding quickly. The last thing he needed was her thinking he was crazy. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, a silence passing between them. Francis thought quickly, searching his mind for something to say. 

“I, uh-” he started, before clearing his throat and trying again. “I’m going down to the Beach House with my family this weekend.” 

Mary nodded and smiled. “That’s great. I’m sure some fresh air will do you good.” 

“Well, I was hoping that you’d maybe want to come with me?” Francis ran a hand through his golden curls, his eyes aimed at the floor to hide the blush that crept onto his cheeks. When he looked up again, his eyes locked with Mary’s. Her eyes were bright with a smile. 

“I’d love to.” she said, twisting her Olivia's ring around her finger. “You would probably be better having Bash there, though. Are you sure you don’t want to call and ask him instead?”

Francis shook his head with a chuckle, reaching out a hand to take Mary’s. He took a step towards her and Mary looked up at him.

“Will you go with me to the beach house, as my date?”

This time, it was Mary’s turn to blush. “As your date?” 

Francis nodded. “I really like you, Mary.” 

“I really like you, too.” Mary whispered, her voice soft and quiet. 

“So…?” Francis teased, closing the gap between them. “Will you come with me?”

Mary nodded quickly, a smile spreading across her face as she threw her arms around Francis’ neck. He held her waist, breathing her in, as he smiled bigger than he had in a very long time.


	14. Only Us

Mary had visited Francis everyday after that, even spending the night a few times. They had enjoyed playing board games, watching movies together and baking. 

As they sat together on the sofa the night before they were due to travel down to the Beach House, Francis began to worry for their trip.

What would his family think of him moving on from his wife so quickly? Although Olivia had been gone for many months now, Francis still felt this was a little soon. He was fond of Mary and cared for her deeply, perhaps more than he ever had for Olivia, but they hadn’t talked about what their relationship was. Did they even have a relationship? Was it all in Francis’ head?

What if his family embarrassed Francis in front of Mary? Oh, he could practically hear the stories Claude would tell her over dinner, of his unfortunate haircuts as a child or the disastrous ways his past relationships had ended. It’s true, after this weekend, Francis would have no secrets from Mary anymore.

What if his family didn’t approve of Mary? She was born into a very rich family, a fact his mother would be fond of, but perhaps Mary wouldn’t want to share that information.

What if they didn’t like the way she wore her hair? Flowing down her shoulders like a waterfall when she didn’t tie it up. What if they disapproved of her clothes? She certainly dressed differently to his sisters. Leeza often wore long flowing dresses and heavy amounts of jewelry and makeup, even when she wasn’t going out. She seemed not to know the term ‘under-dressed’. Margot dressed normally enough but had a strange fondness for fur coats and leopard skin shoes, a fact which often disgusted his little brother Charles, who was a vegetarian. Claude often wore too-short skirts with tight fitted tops and jackets she ‘borrowed’ from her ex boyfriends. The heels of her laced boots were usually too high and Francis was astonished she could even walk in them. He liked Mary’s clothes. Cute but simple. Sort of, normal. Mary herself was very normal. Not normal as in boring, just normal as in  _ real _ . 

It was in this moment, while he was thinking these things, that he realized he had been staring at Mary instead of the TV, and now she was watching him with a questioning look in her eye. He laughed nervously, looking back towards the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Mary kept her gaze on him. Despite Francis’ eye line returning to watch the colors dance across the TV, his mind continued to race. 

What if Francis’ family didn’t care for Mary the way he did? He wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable on this trip, and he knew his siblings, Charles in particular, would try his best to complete that goal. Still, he wanted Mary to meet his family.

What would he introduce her as? He hadn’t thought about that until now. His girlfriend? But they weren’t a couple. Or were they? Francis scrunched his nose in thought. However much he tried to fight it, he knew in his heart he wanted them to be. 

Francis was interrupted by Mary’s voice speaking over the noise from the TV. 

“I’m afraid your family won’t like me much.” 

It was as though she had been reading Francis’ thoughts, and he suddenly felt guilty for assuming they wouldn’t. 

“Don’t worry, Mary. They’re going to love you, just as I do.” 

Francis heard the words that came from his mouth moments after he had said them. He felt Mary’s eyes, wide with curiosity, bearing down at him, and couldn’t quite bring himself to meet them. 

Knowing that anything he said in this moment would just further his embarrassment, Francis stayed silent. He hoped that Mary hadn’t heard him, but also prayed that she had, waiting impatiently for an answer. 

“Francis…” 

He closed his eyes, feeling his heart sink in his chest. Why did he have to say that? He dreaded more than anything the thought of pushing Mary away because of this. He couldn’t bear to be without her, and wanted nothing more than to spend every moment he could with her. Praying that Mary would at least keep their friendship despite not feeling the same way about him, Francis held his breath, his heart racing in his chest. 

“I love you, too.” 

One eye opened. Then the other. Heartbeat slowed. Breath released. 

Francis looked up at Mary, as she twirled the ring Francis gave her around her finger. Just as he was about to stammer something stupid, he caught sight of her eyes. Her perfect hazel eyes reflecting the light from the TV, still so bright even in the darkened room. She was so beautiful, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. “You do?”

Mary bit her lip, the blush creeping onto her cheeks as she nodded, unable to string the words she was feeling into a sentence. Francis moved before he could stop himself, cupping her cheek with his hand and pressing his lips against hers. Mouth on mouth, skin on skin as their bodies connected like old friends. It felt familiar to him, like Francis seemed to know her somehow. He knew her body like a poem he had memorized or a book he had read a thousand times. The noise from the TV did it’s best to drown them out as they enjoyed each other’s company to the fullest. 


	15. I'm feeling lucky

Francis' eyes fluttered open, and he flinched from the light through the window that drowned the room. Feeling a weight against his chest, he looked down to see Mary, all skin, breathing gently against his bare chest. Their clothes lay forgotten on the floor and coffee table and the TV still played in the background. Francis’ arms wrapped around her protectively as they lay on the sofa, a muddle of limbs underneath the blanket. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, Mary’s head pressed against his chest as she breathed steadily, but all good things must come to an end.

He smiled a warm, full smile as Mary’s eyes opened to gaze up at him. 

“Hi, you.” Mary smiled, sleepily, stretching out as much as she could in the safety of Francis’ arms. Francis replied with a gentle kiss, as Mary sighed against his lips. 

By the time the pair had gotten up and dressed, it was already midday. Francis had packed his bags the morning before and they lay lined up by the front door, ready to be taken to Mary’s car, where her own bags were. 

“Are you ready to go?” Francis called out, grabbing his keys from the table in the hallway. Mary emerged from the living room, wearing a long sleeved navy mini dress printed with flower petals. She had braided her hair into a single plait that draped over her shoulder and she wore more makeup than she usually would.

Despite being awestruck, Francis frowned slightly. “You look beautiful Mary..” he hesitated as he watched Mary tug at the sleeves of her dress.

She bit her lip and held his eye for a moment, while the frown fell from Francis’ face and was replaced with realization.

“Don’t tell me you’re all dressed up to meet my family.” Francis rolled his eyes dramatically, laughing, as Mary made her way towards him. 

“First impressions are everything.” Mary explained as she reached her arms around Francis’ neck. “Your mother is Catherine de Medici! I’m afraid she won’t like me.” She pouted, jokingly, but Francis knew she meant it.

“They’re gonna love you.” Francis reassured her, planting a kiss on her lips. 

Mary helped Francis carry his bags to the car and, before long, the couple were on their way to the coast. Francis couldn’t wait to spend the weekend at the beach with Mary. Of course he was happy to see his family all together again, but he also hoped for some alone time with her. Perhaps they could take a romantic moonlit walk along the beach. Or drink champagne and watch the setting sun. Either way, Francis knew he’d be happy as long as she was there. 

It was a long drive to the Beach House, and they had to stop twice. Once for gas and to swap over as driver and the second time to pick up a bottle of red wine for Francis’ father and flowers for his mother, although Francis knew Catherine would prefer the wine. 

When they finally pulled up around the back of the Beach House, Mary’s mouth hung open. It was huge, more like a mansion, with a beautiful conservatory and pillars like the White house. Aside from the conservatory, the house’s brickwork looked old, like a small castle, but nevertheless, beautiful. A few cars sat alongside the line of palm trees that towered over what looked like the manicured greens of a miniature golf course. Down a small hill across the lawn, Mary caught a glimpse of a swimming pool, bigger than even Lola’s, with two hot tubs attached and sun loungers and umbrellas dotted around the edge. The double doors of the conservatory opened up to a large patio decking, decorated with a family sized table and chairs. A large stone archway stood to the left of the car park, and Mary wondered where that led. She could see the ocean from here, and the path leading down to it. The calming sound that the sea provided seemed to settle her nerves a little, as she enjoyed the view. 

“I’ve got the bags, don’t worry.”

Mary turned around, laughing slightly as she saw Francis trying to juggle both of their luggage in his arms. Unsurprisingly, he failed, and the bags tumbled to the floor. Mary helped him pick them up, feeling a little bad about getting distracted by the view.

Once they had successfully managed to carry their bags inside and dump them by the front door, Francis steered Mary through the hallway and into the living room. He set the wine and flowers down on the table and gave Mary a moment to look around. The inside of the house was just as beautiful as the outside, with wooden floorboards and old-fashioned ceiling bars. An open fire lit up the room, and autumn-scented candles made it smell like spices. 

Mary turned her head as she heard footsteps clatter down the wooden staircase by the front door. 

“Francis!” 

All Mary could see was a blur of auburn curls as a young girl threw herself into Francis’ arms. She looked about Mary’s age, perhaps a little younger, and she wore a tight-fitted dress cut way above the knees. She was very well spoken and wore many pieces of jewelry. When she broke away from Francis, he reached a hand out to stroke her cheek, gently.

“I’ve missed you, Claude. I hope you haven’t been driving mother insane?” 

“Oh, please,” she rolled her eyes, dramatically. “I’ve been trying my very best to stay out of her way.” 

Mary couldn’t help but smile as the two shared in merry laughter. 

Francis hugged Claude again, stroking her curly hair with his hand. She didn’t ask him any questions, and he loved that about her. She said it how it was and would always be herself, despite the situation. As they pulled away again, Francis looked up at Mary, who was smiling warmly at their reunion from the center of the room. 

“Oh, Claude, this is Mary.” he motioned his arm in Mary’s direction and Claude looked up at her. “Mary, this is my sister, Claude.” 

Mary continued to smile and she addressed the slightly intimidating girl standing before her. “It’s lovely to meet you, Claude.”

Claude squinted her eyes at Mary, suspiciously and she looked her up and down. After a moment, her face spread into a forced smile. “A pleasure.” she said, although she didn’t seem to mean it. 

Francis noticed Mary’s smile falter and spoke up quickly. “Claude, why don’t you go tell mother that we’re here.” Claude huffed dramatically, but walked out through one of the large wooden doors, muttering inaudibly about trying to avoid her mother. Once she had gone, Francis turned back to Mary with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about her, she’s just being Claude.”

The next few interactions went better, as Francis introduced Mary to his eldest sister, Leeza, and her husband Philip, as well as Margot and Charles. Francis knew Mary would be excited to meet little Henry, as Mary had expressed her fondness for children, but he was eager to see his parents first. 

“Mother?” Francis called out, as he walked hand-in-hand with Mary through into the kitchen.

As he turned the corner, he saw his father shutting the cupboard quickly, holding his hands behind his back. When Henry saw his son enter the room, he sighed in relief. “Oh good, I thought you were my wife.” He pulled his hands back out from behind his back to reveal the cookie he had stolen from the cupboard and began to eat it

Francis grinned at his father before turning to look at Mary and rolling his eyes jokingly. 

“Father, this is Mary.” 

Henry looked up, wiping crumbs from his mouth. “Oh, yeah?” He took a few steps towards Mary, eyeing her up. “What are you, his girlfriend?” 

Mary blushed, feeling Francis’ hand squeeze her own. “Yes, sir.” 

Henry laughed heartily. “Oh, please, call me Henry.” He turned to Francis and his eyes widened, as if noticing him for the first time. “Francis, my boy!” 

The two embraced, briefly, before Henry turned away and walked back towards the cupboard, muttering under his breath about ‘don’t tell your mother.’

“You know,” he started again, between mouthfuls of brownie. “I’m really happy for you two.” Francis and Mary shared a smile as Henry continued. “Yeah, I never liked that binge-drinking ex wife of yours.” 

His words hit Francis. Hard. In the stomach. His head felt light and his knees felt weak as he held onto Mary’s arm to keep from collapsing. He tried his best to steady himself as the room around him span. 

“Do I hear voices in here?” 

Henry shoved the box of brownies back into the cupboard, quickly swallowing the contents in his mouth, as Mary held her breath. The voice sounded just as it did when Catherine de Medici was live on TV, and she had to swallow back her nerves. Francis had managed to compose himself by the time his mother had made it through the door.

“Oh, Francis, how lovely to see you!” Catherine glided across the floor with such grace as she placed a kiss on each of her son’s cheeks. “And you must be Mary.” Catherine turned to look at her with a smile that Francis could only assume was meant to be welcoming, but it came off as forced. “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

Mary smiled back, shyly. “Good things, I hope.” She glanced up at Francis uneasily, and he smiled back reassuringly. None of the group seemed to notice as Henry slipped out of the door, the box of brownies in hand. 

“Very good things.” Catherine assured her. “Now, tell me, Mary. Do you make it a habit to go after men whose wives have just died?” 

“Mother!” the smile slipped from Francis’ face as he stepped in front of Mary protectively. 

Catherine rolled her eyes a little, but gave the couple another one of her forced smiles. “Now, now, I’m only teasing.” 

“It’s alright, Francis.” Mary let go of his hand and instead clutched onto his arm. Francis turned back to Mary before taking a step back to stand beside her, eyes staring down at his mother.

It was quiet for an unsettling amount of time, and Catherine stood with her arms crossed over her chest.

“We should go unpack.” Francis eventually said, breaking the silence. 

Catherine nodded her head with a quiet ‘hmm’ as Francis tugged Mary through the kitchen and down a long corridor. After a few twists and turns, and several empty rooms later, they reached a stone staircase leading up to what appeared to be a separate part of the building. Mary ran her spare hand along the wall, her footsteps echoing as she followed Francis. As they emerged at the top, the steps opened up to a small room with a fireplace along the wall and a few sofas around the edges. A small TV sat in the corner next to the window, which overlooked the swimming pool and had a beautiful view of the sea.

There was only one door coming off this room, and Francis opened it to reveal a bedroom, decorated with old-fashioned furniture. Everything looked rustic and wooden and Mary thought it was quite perfect. Francis smiled as he watched Mary take it all in. It truly was beautiful. 

“I’ll go get our bags and then we can go for a swim?” Francis suggested, his hands finding Mary’s waist. She blushed and nodded and Francis kissed the top of her head before heading back out the door. His footsteps echoed as he walked away, and Mary felt herself missing him already. 

Her eyes scanned the room, the room she’d be staying in for the next few days. This second floor paradise, all for her and Francis. She suddenly felt very lucky. Lucky that their room was so separate and private. Lucky that she had someone to be here with. Lucky that she had met him.


	16. Chapter 16

By the time they had unpacked, gotten dressed and made their way down to the pool, the sun was hanging low in the sky, threatening to slip down the horizon. Leeza sat in one of the hot tubs with her husband, probably enjoying the peace of not having to be around their many children for a while. Francis walked around the edge of the swimming pool, placing their things down on twin sun loungers. He looked up when he heard Mary’s voice to see that she was talking to Leeza and Philip next to the hot tub. He smiled, glad that there was someone in his family who acted somewhat normal around Mary. Francis took a deep breath and released it as he lowered himself down onto the lounger. Engulfed in his book, ‘The Life of Mary, Queen of Scots’, he didn’t notice Mary come up behind him until her lips touched his cheek. 

“Are you alright?” Francis asked, reaching out to take Mary’s hand in his. She nodded with a smile before taking a step back to sit on her own chair. Francis watched as Mary slipped out of the dress she had been wearing to reveal a black lace up swimsuit with straps crossed across her back. She pulled her long plait up to her head and pinned it into a tight bun.

When she had finished, she looked up at Francis, expectantly. “Well, are you coming?” 

Francis smiled, placing his book down and tugging off his shirt. As the two of them entered the water, hand in hand, Mary was surprised by how warm it was. The view from down there was beautiful, as you could see the coast and the sea, stretching out for miles. Mary smiled to herself as she watched Francis’ eyes skim the horizon. Her hands left droplets of water in Francis' golden curls as she ran her fingers through them.

The couple looked up as Catherine entered the pool area through the great double doors, holding her youngest sons’ hands in hers. Charles let go, running towards the swimming pool, his hair a mess of brown curls. The sun glistened on the surface of the water as Charles hurled himself into the pool. Francis laughed at Mary, who squealed as the splash drenched them both. 

Mary had decided to dry off in the sun, and Francis watched her reading on the sunbed while he played with little Henry in the water. Everything had happened so quickly with them, it felt almost like a dream. Yet, when Francis gazed upon Mary with only admiration in his eye, he somehow knew everything had turned out the way it was meant to. He loved her, it was that simple. 

Once the sun had set over the sea, the whole family gathered around the table on the patio. Francis thought it wonderful how quickly Mary had settled in. Aside from his mother’s cautiousness, the rest of his family had embraced Mary as one of their own. Even Claude smiled genuinely as she passed Mary a knife and fork. 

Everything was perfect, almost too good to be true. The hot sun from the daytime had left a pleasant temperature for the evening, and a cool breeze blew. 

“So,” Catherine said, after swallowing her mouthful of salad. “Tell us a little bit about yourself, Mary.” 

Francis watched as Mary fidgeted in her seat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, I’m not sure what there is to tell.” she laughed, nervously. 

“I heard your father is loaded.” Claude said, leaning in to share her gossip. Catherine perked up at this news. “He makes and sells alcohol, isn’t that right?” 

Mary nodded, shyly. “Yes, that’s right.” 

“Let me get this straight.” Henry said, as the rest of the table turned to look at him. “You’re rich, your father is a very powerful man, you’re beautiful.” Mary shifted uncomfortably. “I should’ve married you!”

If looks could kill, Catherine de Medici would have been wiping Henry’s blood off her knife in an instant. Francis took hold of Mary’s hand under the table, squeezing it tightly as he laughed half heartedly at Henry's words.

“Anyway,” Margot continued, clearly embarrassed of her family. “Tell us about your mother. She must be very rich, too, being married to a man like your father.” 

“Actually, they’re divorced.” Mary said, her discomfort growing. “My father married again.” 

Margot nodded, a look of sympathy crossing her face. 

“Do you have any siblings? I have 6.” Mary looked up as little Henry began to speak. “Leeza, Francis, Margot, Claude, Charles and Bash.” 

Catherine rolled her eyes. “Sebastian is  _ not _ your brother, my dear. If he was, he’d be here. He’s your  _ half brother. _ ” Henry shrugged his shoulders. “There’s a difference.” Her voice was firm but soft and Henry frowned in response.

“I have a half brother, too.” Mary smiled down at Henry, whose eyes beamed back at her. “His name is James.” 

“My friend at school is called James!” Charles cried, excitedly, as though he had just won the lottery. 

After dinner, Francis and Mary excused themselves from family time and headed upstairs to their private living room. Francis had rolled his eyes dramatically when Mary had chosen a rom-com for them to watch together, but was secretly glad to be close to her. There was something intimate about the way they sat, shoulder to shoulder, not quite touching and they breathed in almost perfect synchronicity. 

“I know everything’s moving quite fast for us.” Mary said, once the movie had ended. “I can sleep out here, on the sofa tonight if you’d rather.” 

Francis’ eyes softened and he took Mary’s hand. His eyes glowed brightly as he shook his head with a smile. Mary smiled too, secretly glad he thought the same as her. “Sleep sounds wonderful.” he responded, dreamily. 

“I’m gonna go get some water but I’ll be right in, okay?” 

Francis nodded, placing a kiss on Mary’s head before turning into their bedroom. 

Mary jumped as she flicked the kitchen light on, surprised to see Catherine standing alone in the darkness. Her eyes were tired and her hair piled lazily atop her head. She wore a long, silk dressing gown with a cord tied around her waist.

“Mary,” she said, unenthusiastically. “I was hoping for Francis.” 

Mary frowned a little, unsure what Catherine meant by that, but offered her a smile nonetheless. She reached out to retrieve a glass from the cupboard, very aware that Catherine was watching her intently. She wasn’t very surprised when she heard Catherine begin to speak again. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been so harsh with you.” Mary turned to meet Catherine’s eye, knowing her words held some weight. “The truth is, you’re a lovely young woman, but Francis, he’s such a kind soul, he often falls for the wrong people. People who use him and leave him when they’re done.” Catherine continued. “I just want what’s best for him- any mother would. He is my son.” 

Mary nodded. She understood why Catherine had acted so hostile towards her and didn’t blame her for it. If she were a mother, she would’ve felt the same way. “It’s alright, really. And I understand how difficult losing Olivia has been for him.” Mary decided not to mention how she thought it was strange that she had been there for Francis more than his own mother had. 

Catherine frowned in Mary’s direction. “He lost his wife, the love of his life, merely six months ago.” she stated, matter-of-factly. “Do you really believe he’s ever going to love you the way he loved her?”

It’s true, Mary had never thought of it like that. She didn’t know much about the depth of his relationship with Olivia, but she somehow knew Catherine was wrong about him. He loved her, however unusual their circumstance. 

“What were you thinking, getting involved with a man like that?” Catherine asked, tightening her grip on the mug she held. She let go with one hand, reaching out to touch Mary’s arm, with a voice as sickly sweet as honey. “If I'm harsh with you, it’s only because it’s the truth, and you need to hear it.”

Mary didn’t know what to say. What if Catherine was right? Was it really a mistake getting with Francis so soon after Olivia’s passing. Their relationship felt right somehow, Mary couldn’t quite explain it. Still, everything Catherine said seemed to make perfect sense. 

“Just go, make life easier for you and him both.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Mary said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe it is too soon.” 

Catherine nodded, stroking her arm. “Yes, far too soon.” 

There was something about the way Catherine spoke that Mary didn’t trust, yet, for that very same reason she felt more and more compelled to agree with her. 

“You really think he’ll never love me?” Mary couldn’t quite bring herself to look at Catherine as her tears blurred her vision.

“Oh, my dear.” Catherine sounded genuine in her sympathy now. “He’ll want to. More than anything.” 

“But he won’t. Maybe he won’t let himself.”

Catherine nodded, feigning sadness. That was enough for Mary. She rushed out of the kitchen, letting the tears flow freely down her cheeks. She didn’t go back to their room, however. Instead, she made her way through the twists and turns of the maze that was the Beach House until she found herself standing at the front door. She flung it open without hesitation, wishing to be anywhere but there. She needed water. She needed air. She needed Francis. 

She managed to pull her car door open and slip into the front seat with minimal effort, giving herself a minute to breathe and process her thoughts. She wasn’t crying now, but as she looked into the rearview mirror, she saw her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were red and puffy. Time’s up, she had to get out of there.

Just as she was about to start the engine, she was startled by tapping at the driver side window. Looking up, she saw Claude dressed in her day clothes, despite the late hour. She wore more makeup than she had been this evening. 

“Mary?” her voice was muffled through the glass. “Where are you going?” 


	17. Would I lie to you?

“No, she wouldn’t.” Francis paced the floor, running his hands through his hair. 

The sun had risen quickly over the coast and the light now shone through the open window of Claude’s bedroom. 

“I’m telling you, Francis.” Claude’s voice was loud and shrill, as though she was irritated that Francis didn’t believe her. 

“You’re wrong!” Francis snapped, his hands dropping to his waist and balling into fists.

Francis had readied himself for bed the night before, and had stayed up reading until Mary returned. When she did, she explained that she had been talking to his mother and that was why she took so long. Francis had believed her- why shouldn’t he?- and the couple had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, almost like a dream. But it wasn’t a dream, it was very real, which was why Francis couldn’t understand what Claude was telling him. 

“I’m not wrong, Francis.” Claude steadied her voice in an attempt to calm Francis as she flopped down onto the bed. “Believe me, I wish I was.”

Francis sighed deeply, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed beside his sister. 

“I’m sorry.” Claude whispered, as though it made any difference. “I’m sorry, Francis, but she was going to leave you.” Claude waved her arms around in the air madly, as though she was conducting a choir. Any calmness in her voice was gone. “She was going to go home without you! She doesn't love you.”

“You don’t know that-”

“Francis.” He looked up from where his eyes rested on the ground. “She left you behind.”

Claude leaned forward a little, resting her head on her brother’s shoulder. This was comfort in the only way she knew. Francis sighed again as he felt his heart shatter. There must be some kind of explanation. All he knew was that he had to talk to Mary, and soon. 

/-/

By the time Francis had returned to the room he shared with Mary, she was up and dressed, gazing out of the window. Her hair, now brushed, was long and flowed down her back and she wore a long sleeved off-the-shoulder dress with a black body and teal blue skirt. Her eyes looked strained and tired and she twirled the ring Francis gave her around her finger. 

“Hey.” 

Mary jumped, turning to look at Francis as he stood, leaned against the doorframe. She smiled uncertainly at him before turning back towards the window. 

“Francis, there you are.” her voice was monotonous and devoid of emotion. “I was starting to worry.” She didn’t sound like it. She shook her head quickly before turning back to him, the light returning to her eyes. “I thought we might go down to the beach today?” she took a step towards him before hesitating. “We could pack a picnic, make the day of it.” 

Despite the innocence in her eyes, Francis still couldn’t help but feel as though Mary was hiding something from him. He still prayed what Claude had told him wasn’t true, but now he was even less sure. 

“We could bring the boys, if you like.” Mary continued. “Although, I had it in mind that we would go, just the two of us.” Francis said nothing, watching Mary with a careful eye. She noticed his gaze and suddenly felt unsure of herself. “Unless you don’t want to go at all?” 

“Claude told me about last night.”

Mary’s eyes widened for a moment before she sighed with defeat. “Of course she did.” She moved towards the window quickly, gripping onto the window frame tightly. She heard Francis’ footsteps come up behind her, but wasn’t sure how far he’d go. Would he want to touch her? Or even be near her? Mary certainly wouldn't if she were him. Perhaps she shouldn’t be near him at all, if what Catherine told her was true. If he truly could never love her, why had she even come?

The tears fell from her eyes before she even knew how to stop them, and she let herself be taken over by the sobs. She didn’t flinch when she felt Francis wrap his arms around her, and turned to cry into his chest. 

“I understand if this is moving too fast for you.” Francis whispered into her hair as he rubbed circles across her back. Mary said nothing. “I understand, Mary.” Her sobs had dulled to shaky breathing as she stayed there, safe in Francis’ arms. “I just thought you’d talk to me about it instead of running away.” the warmth that was once in Francis’ voice was now gone. Mary pulled away from him slowly, bringing her eyes up to meet his. He looked tired from up close, like his mind was heavy with thought. 

“No, I didn’t-”

“You know, I didn’t believe Claude at first. I told her there’s no way you’d leave me with no explanation.” He watched as Mary’s eyes widened and she took a step away from him. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the anger in his voice to calm. “Or were you going to call me from the car? Once you were safely far enough that I wouldn’t be able to follow you. Because you know I would’ve, Mary.” The fire in his eyes reduced to ash as he said these words, the broken words from a broken heart. “I would follow you to the ends of the earth.” Francis watched Mary as she reached her arms out to him. He caught her wrists before she could make contact, holding them up to his chest as he looked her in the eyes. “Because I love you, Mary.” Although she said nothing, Francis knew his words held weight for her. “Do you not believe me? Is that not enough for you?” His grip on her wrists tightened as he closed the gap between them. “What did I do, Mary?” He didn’t try to fight the tears that filled his eyes. “What did I do wrong?” 

Francis didn’t stop her as Mary reached up to press her lips onto his. He let go of her wrists and instead brought them to her waist, pulling her closer to him as her hands found his hair. Francis almost forgot himself, so wrapped up in how wonderful Mary felt. Their connection was undeniable; Francis felt it every time he touched her, when she smiled in his direction, when they shared a kiss. Every moment felt like heaven with her. But all moments have to end. 

Reality hit him. Hard.

He pushed away from her, stumbling backwards a little as Mary looked surprised and confused. “No, Mary.” His fists clenched at his side, not from anger, simply for a distraction from the voices in his head. “No, you can just kiss me and make it all go away.” 

“I know.” Her voice was soft, quiet, and Francis felt the urge to be near her again. It took all his might to stop himself. “I really am sorry, Francis. I wasn’t thinking.” She looked down at her hands, twirling the ring around her finger. “Actually, I was thinking a little too much.” 

She sighed, looking back up at Francis. “I love you. I do. Yes, this is moving quickly. But it’s also wonderful and comforting and utterly bizarre.” She breathed a small sigh of relief when Francis chuckled softly. “I’m sorry Francis. But I think, if I told you what happened, you’d understand.”

“I understand, Mary.” His voice was unsettlingly calm, his eyes a clouded-over mystery. As he walked slowly towards Mary, she was unsure whether to move towards him or away from him. Instead, she stood still, frozen where she was. “I understand everything, and I regret so much.” 

He stood with her for a moment, leaning over wide-eyed Mary before turning towards the door.

“Do you regret loving me?”

Francis paused in the doorway, his heart beating in his head. His fists clenched tighter as he tried his best to stop himself from turning back and going to her. He had already tried that a thousand times with his wife, and look how that ended. No, he wouldn’t. He was so sick of being pushed around. He needed time. He needed air. He needed Mary. 

“I regret everything.” 

Mary stood, broken, as she listened to his footsteps echo down the stone steps. She didn’t move until she couldn’t hear them anymore. Only then did she truly believe he was gone. 


	18. Until Death Parts Us

_ Francis stood beneath the cherry tree, petals falling all around him. The light from the setting sun shone through the branches, casting a long, dark shadow across the grass. Deep breaths were not enough to calm his nerves, and he fiddled with the buttons on his tuxedo. _

_ He had played out this moment a thousand times in his head, but never did he feel like this. So unsure. It didn’t look the way he had dreamed it, all love and smiles. Everything was wrong. _

_ The flowers were the wrong shade of blue, so now they didn’t match the blue of his tie. He had ordered fake flowers, but something must have changed because these looked very real. Francis wanted to keep the flowers for sentimental value, but real ones would just die; he’d have to get them pressed. Mentally, he made a note to get that sorted.  _

_ Did he have his ring? And his speech? Frantically, he patted his pockets, feeling for the shape of the items he had misplaced. _

_ “Deep breaths, brother.” Bash whispered from behind him. “Everything is fine.”  _

_ In his heart, Francis knew his brother was right, but his head wouldn’t let the subject rest. He tried to breathe, like Bash said, but it was hard. He felt suffocated, like he was breaking through the surface to gasp for air. Still, he tried. _

_ What if the chefs hadn’t arrived? Francis had allowed Bash to oversee the arrival of the band and chefs and waiters. He hoped they had arrived in uniform, like Francis had asked. He hoped they cooked the salmon, not the chicken, as little Charles had decided to try being a pescatarian, and his mother, Catherine, who was now 6 months pregnant with a baby boy, was craving fish. All these things had to be taken into consideration, and more. Such as the seating plan. It certainly was exhausting for Francis, having to keep up with the who-likes-who nonsense. _

_ Months of careful planning had gone into this event. Everything had to be perfect, the music, the food, the whole celebration. The pressure was on for Francis to remain as calm and collected as possible. As he gazed out across the sea of faces that sat in rows of chairs, he caught sight of his family. Catherine was lecturing Henry about something-or-other. Claude sat with her arms crossed over her chest, looking bored. Margot and Leeza appeared to be chatting pleasantly, although Francis knew they weren’t fond of each other. Charles looked around, wide-eyed, at the scene before him. Francis didn’t blame him, it truly was beautiful.  _

_ The rows of matching white chairs were connected with strings of fairy lights that shone brightly as the sun began to fade away. Despite being outside, they had been blessed with glorious weather throughout the day and the ground was dry and firm beneath feet. The tree that Francis stood beneath was one of many that lay, dotted about in the open field. The barn where the dancing and eating would take place stood further behind the chairs, as well as the bridal rooms, where Francis would be staying the night.  _

_ Everything about this celebration was well planned and beautiful, just the way Francis wanted it to be, and yet, his mind still wouldn’t settle.  _

_ He tried to breathe again, feeling a kind of calmness in his own heartbeat. The feeling only lasted a few moments, however, as he heard the music begin to play. Looking up, he saw the double doors of the barn open to reveal two girls in beautiful blue dresses. One carried a bouquet of pink flowers, the other did not. This, of course, sent Francis’ head spinning.  _

_ All of that was forgotten as he watched a beautiful woman, dressed all in white, appear in the doorway. The body of her dress hugged her chest and the skirt cascaded down to her feet, where her heeled shoes glimmered with the diamonds that lined them. Her blonde hair fell in curls around her shoulders and a veil draped down her back.  _

**I can’t do this. I can’t do this.**

_ He didn’t have much of a choice. His family and friends watched in awe as she made her way down the aisle that the chairs had created. Now that she was closer, Francis could see the same fear in her crystal blue eyes as he had in his own. As the music stopped, he took her hand, offering a reassuring smile. When she smiled back at him, all his fear seemed to melt away, and he knew, somehow, that he could do this. He  _ wanted  _ to do this. Suddenly, breathing was easier. Suddenly, he didn’t care about the flowers, or the bridesmaids, or the food. Suddenly, there was only her. And she was perfect to him. _

_ “Do you, Francis, take Olivia to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health,  _ **_until death parts you_ ** _?” _

_ “I do.” _


End file.
